An Unexpected Comfort
by Zarine
Summary: George finds strength and comfort in his little brother's girlfriend after Fred dies.  Rating is just in case, chapter 1 is probably K .  Reviews, comments and criticisms appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Jo is awesome, I'm not worthy...

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><p>There was pain. It wasn't so much physical pain, though there was still some of that, as it was emotional. So many good people gone, because they hadn't gotten to the Horcruxes quickly enough, because they weren't smart enough, fast enough, to end it before he got to Hogwarts. Teddy was only a few months old, and he would be growing up without his parents – because of them, because of <em>her<em>. She was the one that everyone relied on to figure it out – but she had been too slow to stop it. They were dead, and it was their – no, _her_ - fault. Professor Snape was dead – the man that had protected Harry, protected all of them from harm for the six years that they were at Hogwarts – the man that had protected countless students from the Carrows whenever he could – the man who had endured taunting and hatred from those he worked so hard to protect – the man who had loved Lily Evans so strongly that his Patronus was her until the day he died. Gone. Because she wasn't fast enough to see how to end it. _Fred_. She forced herself to remember that, if she had been stronger, smarter, Fred Weasley – brilliant, funny, charming, confident Fred – would still be here to make them laugh, and she wouldn't be getting dressed in plain black dress robes, staring blankly into space while she tried to prepare herself for the funeral of one of the best wizards she had ever been fortunate enough to meet. Her fault...

When Hermione left Ginny's room, Ron was waiting for her. She had to hold it together – he needed her still. She gave him a long hug on the landing as she worked desperately to banish her guilt for the time being. There would be time enough to deal with it later, and he needed her to be strong so that he had some support when he broke apart.

"Are you ready?" she asked him quietly, noticing that the tears were already flowing freely down his face. He didn't answer her, only looked at her blankly, and she sighed, irritated with herself. What a stupid question, she berated herself. Of course he's not ready. Who is ever ready to bury their nineteen-year-old brother? She reached up and wiped away his tears, then kissed him softly. "Let's go."

She started down the steps, and he stood there watching her, looking lost. She reached out her hand and clasped his, and continued down, with him following her this time. Harry and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen quietly when they walked in, her head on his shoulder, their hands clasped, their eyes red. Hermione and Ron sat down next to them silently. The four of them took what little comfort they could from the company of their friends, until a noise from outside forced their eyes to the window. There was a tent set up in the yard, similar to the one that had been erected for Bill and Fleur's wedding less than a year ago, only there would be no laughing or dancing under this one. In the bright sunlight, under this tent, hundreds of people would gather to say good-bye to Fred – suddenly she felt as though the weather were mocking their grief. It should be storming, to match the maelstrom of emotions boiling inside of her. Ron's breath hitched a bit, and she turned from the window, grateful that he needed her enough to allow her the respite from her thoughts. She could feel his tears running down into her hair, and her heart broke a little more for him. Her fault.

"Where is George?" Harry asked, the threat of tears present in his voice.

"Upstairs - he hasn't left his room for the past week." Ginny looked at her hand, entwined with Harry's, and sighed. "We've been taking it in turns to go up and sit with him, talk with him. He's- he's not well. He hasn't eaten since the battle. He blames himself for not saving F- Fred." Harry had been in and out all week, to the Ministry, and press conferences, and funerals. He felt guilty over each and every person that the Death Eaters had killed, and went to as many of the funerals as he could. As a result, he wasn't quite as in-the-loop as the rest of them were about happenings in the Burrow.

"There was nothing that he could -" Harry began.

"We know, Harry. He's been told that I don't know how many times. But he feels that he should've been there. He thinks it would have ended - differently if he was there." Ginny's voice hitched a bit as she spoke, and Harry gathered her into a tight hug, both of them closing their eyes and letting the tears fall. They sat that way for a moment, and then Ginny sat up, wiped her eyes, and said, "I reckon one of us should go get him."

Hermione looked at Ron, and then at Ginny and Harry. "I'll go get him,"she said quietly. She kissed Ron on the cheek, and left the room. When she was out of everyone's sight, she stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. Great Merlin, that was hard. How was she supposed to get through today, knowing what she knew? _My fault._

She took a breath, locked away her guilt again, and started up the stairs. Quietly, she knocked on the door of the room that George had once shared with Fred. She couldn't imagine the pain he was in right now. She heard a muffled "It's open" come from inside, and opened the door, unsure of what she would find.

He was laying on the bed that had been Fred's, curled into a tight ball, his face buried in Fred's pillow. His hair was sticking up all over the place, and she could see the hole where his ear used to be. He smelled unwashed, and she was relatively certain that the robes he was wearing had not been changed since they got back to the burrow after the battle. "George?" she said quietly, sitting down next to him on Fred's bed. "Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?"

"I can't do this, Hermione. I'm so angry -" _My fault. _"Why him, Hermione? Why wasn't it me? It would have been so much better for everyone if it had been me! I can't stand it! Why did -" Hermione pulled George upright and hugged him tight, ignoring the smell of neglected hygiene that permeated everything in the room.

"George, listen to me. Look at me." He looked up unwillingly and opened his mouth to say something. "No. It's my turn. Listen to me." She waited until he closed his mouth again before continuing. "I know that none of us have the slightest idea of what you're going through right now. He was your twin, your other half. I know. But, George, the rest of us lost something important, too. A brother, a son, a friend. Please understand, that I know you want to be alone. I know you feel like you should have saved him. But you can't do this. We need you. We need to know that we didn't lose you, as well. Your mother is so worried about you, she can't grieve for her son. And she needs to grieve, George, we all do. But we need you to be there for us, and to let us be there for you. This is how we're going to get through this, George. Together."

George looked through her for a moment, then his eyes focused on her, and he nodded. "You're right. I need to get it together. Freddie wouldn't want this. Wait for me here?"

"Of -of course," Hermione said faintly, astounded. Nothing else had gotten through to him all week. How had she done it?

She was still wondering what she had said right when he came back into the room, smelling clean and wearing his dress robes. His nose wrinkled and he opened the window. "Sorry," he muttered.

"George. Don't be a prat. It's all right."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he said, pulling her into a hug. It was a much more pleasant hug this time – he smelled of toothpaste and soap and something that she couldn't immediately identify.

"Anytime." she said softly, hugging him back. She leaned into him and felt him lean his head on the top of hers, and she started to cry softly. _My fault._

"Hermione..." George put his hand under her chin and lifted her face up to look at him. "I know, Hermione." He kissed her forehead softly. "We'll – we'll be all right." She looked into George's eyes and was surprised to see something there along with the pain. Did he – was he -?

No. That was stupid. He was like a brother to her, and they were getting ready to bury his twin. Whatever she thought she saw there, she was wrong.

"Let's go down, George. It's almost time." Her voice trailed off to a whisper at the end. "Are you all right?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, seeming to know what she was really asking. Are you ready to face hundreds of people who are coming to give their condolences to you? Are you ready to smile, because Freddie would have wanted it that way, and set off an entire Conflagration Deluxe, because he would have expected it of you? Are you ready to lock away your feelings for now, to come back to them when the guests are gone?

"No," he told her honestly. "But I will be, eventually."

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><p>The funeral, despite the hundreds of people in attendance, was a modest, personal service. The yard had been trimmed quite nicely, and two hundred chairs set up under the tent. Even still, Hermione estimated that about a hundred people had Transfigured rocks to give themselves somewhere to sit, and there were many people standing. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, said a few words, as he had gotten to know Fred and George quite well during their work for the Order of the Phoenix. After Kingsley sat down, various people stood up and shared memories of Fred. George sat quietly, listening to everyone's memories, Hermione holding his hand and Ron's. Several hours later, when no one else had anything to say, the casket was moved to the cemetery at Hogwarts for the burial, and people started lining up to take the Portkeys that had been set up in advance. Hermione, Ron and George caught the first one with Molly and Arthur. Hermione noticed that the cemetery had expanded drastically in the last week, and she felt her breath catch a bit. <em>My fault. <em>She looked at Ron, who was staring blankly into the grave, and then turned to George, who was looking down at her. He squeezed her hand briefly, tears streaming down his face. "It's all right," he whispered. "Together."

She nodded, squeezed his hand back, and attempted to smile. "Together," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

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><p>When they got back to the Burrow that night, Hermione watched as George hugged his mother fiercely. She knew that he would be all right. Ron, though... He was still staring blankly, walking when led and staying still otherwise. He was in shock, she knew – it had been easy, in the day after the battle, to believe that a mistake had been made, that Fred would wake up. He had seemed fine that day, grieving, of course, but he could do what he had to. Now, he was a mess. She took his hand, and when he looked at her blankly, she said, "Let's go." She took him out to the Quidditch pitch in the yard and sat him on the ground, then knelt next to him. "Ron," she started, "I love you. I know that this is hard for you, but I need you right now. Please, Ron." She hugged him tight and leaned her head against his. Tears were running down her face, and she could feel herself breaking. "Ron..." He just stared blankly at the ground in front of him. "All right," she said quietly through her tears, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. She led him in the house and left him in the kitchen. Then she went back out to the Quidditch pitch and laid down on the grass, sobbing and screaming in turns. <em> My fault. It's all my fault, Fred. I'm so sorry... <em>

She laid there for what felt like hours, screaming and crying. She knew she was far enough away from the house that they wouldn't be able to hear her, so she took the opportunity to let everything out without worrying anyone. Finally, around dawn, she cried herself out and laid there, watching the sunrise.

"It's pretty. It doesn't really feel like it should be so pretty, now, but it is."

Hermione gasped and turned around. George was sitting a few meters away, watching the sunrise with red eyes. "I didn't hear you. When did you come out?" she asked, hoping that he hadn't heard her crying.

"Er, a while ago, actually. You seemed to need the time to yourself, so I left you alone. I wanted to be here if you needed me, though."

Hermione shuddered. "Th-Thank you."

George looked at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Can I?" he asked her, his voice full of pain. She nodded. "This was not your fault, you know. It was Voldemort's fault, no one else's. Not mine, not yours, not Harry's. It's not your fault. Fred knew what he was getting into, he wanted nothing more than to take Voldemort down. He helped with that. He didn't die in vain, and it was not your fault." The tears started coming again, and she positively howled in misery.

"George, you don't understand! It was my fault! We knew how to take Voldemort down, we were working on it, but I wasn't smart enough! If I had managed to figure out what I was supposed to, the battle at Hogwarts might never have happened! That cemetery wouldn't be four times the size it was last week, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Snape and everyone else who died there would not be dead if I had been just a little bit smarter, a bit quicker – if I had been _better-_" she choked out the last word, "we could have finished him off before he ever came to Hogwarts. But I failed. I – I failed."

"Hermione. You, and Harry and Ron, are the reason that Voldemort is dead. You three are the reason that the entire Wizarding community no longer has to worry about their loved ones when they go to bed. You need to listen to me, love," - he gently moved her face so that he was looking in her eyes - "this is _not_ your fault."

Hermione collapsed on the ground again, crying so hard that she couldn't hear the words she knew George was saying. He kept running his fingers through her hair, wanting to let her know that he was there for her. After a while, he picked her up, and started back towards the house. The unexpected movement jolted Hermione out of her latest crying jag. "Wh-what are you doing?" she asked him, her breath still coming in short gasps.

"I'm taking you back to the house," George replied. "You need a bed – you were up all night."

"I-I need to calm down before I go back – Ron needs m-me to be strong."

George studied her face for a moment, then nodded. He put her down and turned towards the house, and she saw something silver shoot towards it. At the questioning look she gave him, he said, "I'm letting them know where we are so they won't be worried."

He glanced back towards the house, and Hermione heard George mutter something under his breath that sounded like, "Ron, you prat."

"No, he's just grieving – like you were, like I am. He just has to deal with it his way."

"By shutting you out and making you go through it alone?" George looked angry.

"George," Hermione said gently. "Until about eighteen hours ago, that's how you dealt with it, too. He's been like this for two days, not nearly as long as you were."

"But I didn't have someone who needed me to comfort her like you obviously need him!" There was a look in George's eyes that she couldn't quite place.

"George, I don't need him to comfort me. I can take care of myself, you know – I'm a big girl." She smiled thinly. "But thank you for the concern. I'll head up in a minute – I just need a moment to myself."

"Yeah." George looked into her eyes, and the need that she saw there made her gasp out loud. Ron had _never_ looked at her like that before. "Hermione, I think... I think I -"

Hermione's heart was racing. "Yes?"

He slumped. "I think I need to get back to the house."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Jo is awesome, I'm not worthy!

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><p>Hermione walked back into the Burrow half an hour later, eyes stinging and red, still uncertain what had happened with George outside. Molly and Arthur were sitting in the kitchen, having toast and tea. Arthur smiled at her, and she tried to smile back, but she couldn't remember him ever looking so worn as he did this morning. Molly jumped up and started fussing over Hermione, who allowed it only because she knew that this was how Molly was going to get through her grief.<p>

"Would you like some breakfast, dear?" Molly asked, throwing some more bread in to toast. "Tea? Milk, no sugar, yes?"

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape, and finding none. Arthur reached over and squeezed her hand quickly, then got up and walked to Molly's side.

"I've got to go now, Mollywobbles, or I'll be late. I'll be coming home for lunch today, though. I love you." Molly blushed when he called her his pet name for her, and he pulled her close to him, running his fingers through her hair and playing with the ends. "Floo me if you need me for anything at all, love, and I'll come straight home. Anything." Arthur put a finger under Molly's chin and tipped her face up so he could kiss her, his finger trailing down her throat. Hermione tried not to stare. She had never seen Arthur and Molly be so loving to each other. She had never doubted that they loved each other, but they had never been _physical_ in front of her before. She knew that it would bother some people to see (Ron!), but she found it incredibly romantic that after having seven children, and burying one of them, they were still so in love with each other. She was glad that they had each other to get them through this.

The way Arthur had tipped her face up reminded Hermione very much of the way George had tipped her face earlier, and she was confused at the rush of excitement that flooded through her at that thought. _Ron!_ she thought quickly. _I love Ron! _But it wasn't Ron that had held her as she cried, that had stayed up all night just to make sure she was all right, that had looked at her with a dizzying amount of need, that she was thinking of as she watched Arthur and Molly... Molly set a plate of toast and a cup of tea in front of her, and she blinked. Arthur had left already, and she hadn't noticed. Molly sat down next to her and said, "Ron came looking for you this morning. He's talking again. I told him that I'd send you up, and not to go looking for you. But don't spend too long with him, you need to get some sleep. You were up all night." She glanced at Hermione. "Thank you for whatever you said to George, dear. He seems to be handling things much better."

Hermione shrugged. "I only told him that we need him, too. Then I called him a prat."

Molly blinked. "Oh. Well, it worked, so thank you." She looked at Hermione's empty cup and plate. "Would you like more, dear?"

"Thank you, no. I think I'll find Ron and then go to bed." She took out her wand, pointed it at her dishes, and said "Scourgify." Molly smiled, and picked them up to put them away. Hermione gave her a brief hug, and left the kitchen.

As she walked up the stairs, she heard the unmistakable sound of Muffliato coming from George's room. She knew he was crying again._ My fault._ No, George had said. Not her fault. She decided she'd stop in there after talking to Ron. When she got to Ron's room, the door was open, and Ron was waiting for her. "Hey, Mione. I'm – I'm really sorry about yesterday. I just – I couldn't handle everything."

Hermione forced a smile at him. "It's fine. I'm glad you're doing better today."

"Yeah... Mione, we need to talk." Ron looked at her, and said in a rush, "I love you, Mione, but like a sister. This doesn't feel right. I'm so sorry, Mione, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but -"

"Ron." Hermione looked at him and grinned, the first real smile she'd given since the battle. "I was coming up here to say the same thing." She hugged him. "Thank you. I need some sleep, though, I didn't sleep last night. I'll see you later."

"Mione?" She turned back around. "Could you do something for me? Can you check on – on George for me? He probably really needs... someone right now." Ron had an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah," she answered, not bothering to tell him that she had already planned to.

Hermione headed back downstairs, and as she passed George's door, she again heard the indistinct whispering of Muffliato. She knocked and called, "George? It's Hermione. Can I come in?" She waited for a minute, and then started to leave. The whispering abruptly stopped, and George opened the door, his eyes red.

"Hermione." He looked down at her.

"Can I come in?" she asked again. "I don't bite, I promise." He nodded and walked back to his bed. Hermione entered the room and closed the door. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"George." Hermione looked at him. "I thought we were going to help each other through this. Why are you lying?" She cast Muffliato around them, and sat down next to him on the bed. She put her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh. "Ron just broke up with me," she told him, almost as an afterthought, and George jumped up and started yelling.

"What? That prat, stupid git, like you needed this after last night, I'll kick his -!"

"George." She grabbed his hand and pulled him down on the bed with her, and put her arms around him again. "If he hadn't, I was going to." He looked at her blankly, and she made a show of sighing heavily. "I love Ron. Like a brother. Besides, I kind of have my hopes set on... someone else."

George looked disappointed for a second, but he masked it quickly. "Well, I'm glad that it's a mutual thing," he said neutrally, staring straight ahead, and she hid another grin.

"Yeah, it really was," she whispered in his ear. She put her hand on the side of his face and turned his head so that he was looking at her, and she stared into his reddened eyes, knowing that hers probably looked worse. What she saw there made her breath catch. Pain, want, _need_. She leaned toward him, eyes still locked on his, and kissed him gently on the mouth. He gasped, and she couldn't hide her smile this time. He smiled back at her, and ran his fingers through her hair. He put his arms around her, leaned in and kissed her back. She wondered briefly how long he had been hiding this feeling from her; the happiness on his face was overwhelming. "George?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to sleep, but... I really don't want to be alone right now, and since I know you need to sleep too, would you mind terribly if I just stayed with you?"

George laid down on his bed, and patted the spot next to him. "Yeah, that makes sense," he said. She kissed him briefly, laid down next to him and put her arms around him. They fell into sleep immediately.

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><p><strong>AN**: Just a short chapter today, kiddies. The thing between Ron and Hermione will be dealt with more later. In all honesty, this story has completely run off on its own. It's so different from the outline that I wrote, that I will probably start that story again. :) This one was supposed to be completely canon, about Hermione's seventh year, but George was having none of that. Ah, well, we'll see where they want the story to go, since it's obvious that I have no control over it. :)


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